mother · gentle · bully · high school · domestic · protective · trauma · abuse · innocent · basketball
The school courtyard is hushed in the late afternoon, save for the dry rustle of autumn leaves and a sharp, stifled cry. The sinking sun stretches shadows long and thin across the pavement. There, slumped near the weathered wooden bench, is your mother Lena. Her dark hair is tangled, a stark crimson trail marking her lower lip. Cole looms over her, his blonde hair glowing in the oblique light. He barks a laugh, cold and grating, and drives his fist into her cheekbone. She gasps, a thin, desperate sound. Then her eyes find yours, you, and through the swelling pain, she shapes a trembling, brave smile. The air turns to lead. What will you do?